Hermione's True Family
by sliz225
Summary: Hermione visits her family over the fifth year's Christmas break, only to find that they have grown apart. Not angsty or overly dramatic.


**(A/N: In the fifth book, Harry and Ron spent the winter break at number twelve Grimmauld Place, when they hear that Mr. Weasley has been attacked by a snake. Hermione joins them immediately when the term ends. In my story, I tweaked this a little to let Hermione join her parents on vacation for a few days, before she receives the news. I wanted to explore Hermione's fraying relationship with her parents, and—well what are you still reading this for? Start reading!)**

"So, Hermione, are you coming?" Hermione's mother asked hopefully. "The ski slopes opened an hour ago, but if we hurry we may still beat the main crowd." It was the winter break of Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts. Hermione's family had decided to take a ski vacation over Christmas. Harry and Ron were at the Burrow, and Mrs. Weasley had extended the invitation to Hermione as well. Still, Hermione hadn't wanted to disappoint her parents, which is how she had ended trying to do her Ancient Runes translation in the hotel room of a Muggle ski resort.

"I don't know, Mum," Hermione said, forcing a cheerful smile and trying to look like the offer vaguely tempted her. "I'm kind of tired today, and I still have a lot of school work to do. I think I'll just stay at the lodge."

Her mother's answering smile was also a little tremulous. "Again, Hermione?" she said. "You've barely come skiing with your father and I at all this vacation."

Hermione could only shrug feebly. It was true she had done very little actual skiing this holiday break, choosing instead to remain holed up in her hotel room doing school work, penning long letters to Ron and Harry, and rereading old spellbooks. After spending her summer in the headquarters of a secret society, constantly doing battle with magical pestilences, she found skiing just a little . . . _dull._

"In that case, will you meet your father and I for lunch at the Hut?" her mother plowed on relentlessly. The Hut was the name of the snack bar at the base of the ski slopes. "We could meet you there at twelve."

Hermione flinched, picturing that meal. Blank silences as her parents tried to think of something to ask a daughter they barely knew . . . awkward conversation as she tried to explain her classwork to parents who didn't understand the basic principles of magic . . .

"Actually, I'm not really in the mood for snack food today," Hermione said with forced lightness. "I think I'll just order room service." Her mother looked disappointed, but she nodded and left the room.

Hermione locked and bolted the door after her mother and drew the curtains. Once she was certain that she was safe from unwanted prying Muggle eyes, she pulled out _Spellman's Syllabary_, a roll of parchment, a fresh quill and pot of ink. Her books were spelled to look like mundane Muggle textbooks if someone handled them without her permission, but she didn't want to take chances. She settled into her fifty line rune's translation, trying not to think bitterly of what the others could be doing at the Burrow this very instant. . . playing Exploding Snap with Ginny, perhaps, or helping Mrs. Weasley prepare for Christmas dinner, or checking out the twin's latest invention . . . all while _she_, Hermione, was stuck doing dull schoolwork in a bland Muggle hotel room, with parents who had never even heard of the Order of the Phoenix! She could still vividly remember the conversation she had with Ron just a few days earlier:

"_Wait—so Muggles actually attach these 'skeeze' to their feet and slide down mountains? . . . for _fun?_ . . . and the 'skeeze' are actually long boards of wood? . . . sounds kinda stupid . . . I mean, it can't be as much fun as riding a broomstick . . ." _Hermione didn't particularly like riding broomsticks, but she had to admit that skiing definitely paled in comparison . . .

She shook herself out of her imaginings, trying to re-concentrate on her translation. _Christmas is time for the family,_ she told herself firmly._ Your _blood _family. No matter how little you know them anymore._

Hermione had managed to excuse herself from lunch with the family, but there was no way of getting out of dinner. They used a small folding table and ordered room service. For a while, Hermione convinced herself the silence was due to the fact that everyone was eating, but after a while it, grew painfully obvious that neither parents nor daughter could think of anything to say to one another.

"So, Mum and Dad," Hermione began, grasping for any topic to break the silence, "how's the dentistry business going?" She cringed inwardly. Even to her own ears, she sounded stiff and formal, like a guest who had been invited to dinner.

"Pretty well," said her father, sounding equally stiff. "We replaced those old, ugly, green chairs with a new tan variety. The customers like them a lot better."

"That's very nice," replied Hermione, wishing she could think of something more interesting to say. They lapsed into silence once more, and for a while, the only sound was the clatter of forks on the plastic plates.

"How have your classes been going? Are you working hard and paying attention to your teachers?" asked her mother, after some time.

"Of course, Mum," Hermione sighed, just like she always did when her parents asked that question. Desperate to keep silence from returning, Hermione spoke up again. "I got an one hundred and three on my last Charms test."

Her father looked at her quizzically. "Why do you have classes on being charming?" he asked.

"No—a charm is a type of spell—when wizards use that word—I meant . . . never mind," groaned Hermione. _What's wrong with me? _she thought desperately. _I haven't seen my parents in—God, how long has it been now? I spent the summer with the Order, the winter break before that at Hogwarts, the second half of the summer before _that_ with the Weasleys . . . Goodness, it's been over a year and a half since I last saw my parents! I ought to have loads to catch up on! Why can't I think of anything to say? What did we talk about before I went to Hogwarts? _She searched her mind for the happiest family meal she could remember outside of Hogwarts. In front of her mind's eye, a memory blossomed: half the Order gathered around the chipped, food-laden, wooden table in the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place; Harry, Lupin and Kingsley deep in discussion of some new Defense Against the Dark Arts spell; Ron and Ginny excitedly requesting a laughing Tonks turn her hair various brilliant techno-colors; Fred and George whispering furtively with Mundungus, no doubt plotting some shady business deal, while their mother watched disapprovingly; Sirius and Mr. Weasley asking Mad-Eye Moody on the best method of removing a ghoul from the toilet on the top floor . . . the entire scene in Hermione's memory was warmly and comfortably lit by a crackling fire in the hearth, and everyone was laughing, chatting, eating . . .

Angrily, Hermione shook herself back to the family dinner she had here and now. Still, the lukewarm room service food, wobbly folding table, and chilly silence made a poor contrast to the meal in her memory.

"I'm going to bed," she said abruptly, standing up and shoving her half-eaten chicken into the middle of the table.

"Already?" said her father, startled.

"I'm very tired," Hermione snapped, slipping her pajamas on in the bathroom. She pulled out the trundle bed and slipped under the covers, breathing deeply and evenly to feign sleep. She wasn't sure when her daydream of staying at the Burrow turned into a real dream, where her mother turned into Mrs. Weasley, who served a banquet of room service food, which only Hermione wasn't allowed to eat because she didn't like skiing.

The next morning, her parents all but dragged out to the slopes with them. They weren't going to let her spend another day in their hotel room. Her father set off for the black diamond slopes, while Hermione and her mother took the ski lift to smaller hills. They bumped along in empty, cold silence. Hermione wondered if she could fool her parents into letting her go back to Hogwarts a few days earlier, or if she had already told them when the term started.

"Why aren't you having fun?" demanded her mother suddenly.

"I—what?" said Hermione, jerked from her musings. "Oh!-I'm having loads of fun this vacation!" Inwardly, she winced. She could hear the false brightness in her own voice, and she knew her mother could hear it too.

"No, you're _not_," her mother almost snarled. "You look bored when you think no one is watching, you sigh when you think no one is listening. You spend more time writing letters to your friends than you do talking to your father and I. When you do talk to us about your classes, I can't understand one word in three. You've barely gone skiing with us once this entire vacation."

"I guess skiing just isn't my thing," suggested Hermione feebly.

Her mother laughed almost bitterly. "You know that skiing isn't the issue," she said.

"Well, what is?" Hermione questioned desperately.

"It's one of those boys, isn't it?" her mother accused unexpectedly. "You're in love with one of those boys you're always talking about. That, that, _Perry_, or that _Ron_. They're the reason you never spend holidays with us anymore."

"Mom! I am not in love with _Harry or Ron_! They're like family to me," gasped Hermione, stunned by this unanticipated attack.

"Don't you get it, Hermione? _We're_ supposed to be your family!" said her mother, suddenly sounding desperate. "Your father and I are your family," she insisted again when Hermione hesitated, sounding like she had a bad head cold.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the cold metal seat of the ski lift, staring out over the happy, oblivious Muggles skiing past. She didn't belong in this world, she realized. She didn't belong in a world where plates were cleared by hand, not magic; where charm was something used to attract a boyfriend, not practiced for homework; where common topics of conversation were taxes, the economy, and football, not Quidditch, Voldemort, and Azkaban. She belonged helping out the Order of the Phoenix at number twelve Grimmauld Place. She belonged in the cozy, comfortable Burrow. She belonged in the cheerful, vaulted halls of Hogwarts. Most of all, she belonged wherever Ron and Harry where.

"I'm sorry, Mum," was all she could say. Somehow, her mother understood.

"You don't have to get off the ski lift with me, if you don't want to," said her mother, sounding wistful. "I'd like it if you would, though."

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated. Her mother slipped off the ski lift, and she let Hermione ride away.

Hermione re-entered the hotel room a few minutes later, to find Hedwig tapping at the window. The note in Harry's untidy scrawl made her heart pound:

_Hermione,_ the note read.

_Ron's dad has been attacked by a giant snake, while working for the Order. They think that he'll survive, but he's in St. Mungo's. We're all staying at the headquarters. Please come soon._

_ Best wishes,_

_ Harry_

Hermione hurled her clothes and books into her suitcase, before realizing she needed to wait for her parents to return. She waited impatiently, pacing frantically around the hotel room as she tried not about what Harry had written. _Attacked a giant snake . . . a _giant _snake . . . they _think _he's going to survive . . ._

When her parents eventually returned for lunch, she could have died from relief. Hermione told them about the letter, leaving out only the part about the headquarters and the Order.

"You actually want to leave? Again? Hermione, you see your friends all year at school. Actually, you've been seeing them pretty often over recent holidays, too. We barely get to see you at all, nowadays. How can you want to leave already?" demanded her father.

"Weren't you listening?" asked Hermione wildly. "Mr. Weasley was attacked by a snake! I have to go see them!"

"I swear, you care more about your precious Weasleys than you do about us," her father complained angrily.

Hermione groaned. "C'mon, Dad! You know I would be upset if you were attacked by a snake, as well!"

"Couldn't you simply send them a letter, _asking_ if he was alright?" demanded her dad. "Why do have to storming off to visit the Weasleys?"

"Dad . . ."

"Really! You should stay with us. We barely ever get to see you anymore. Your letter said that this Weaselly man would probably survive, right? What's the big rush?"

"Dad. Mom. I need to go see Mr. Weasley to make sure he's alright," Hermione said flatly. "I wasn't asking you permission. I was telling you what I was going to do."

Her parents stared at her for a long moment.

"I'll arrange for you take a train ride to the Burrow tomorrow morning," said her mother coolly, turning away coldly.

"Mom, I'm sorry . . ." 

"Don't apologize. I understand. You're a wizard. You belong with other wizards," her mother said. Her voice had equal parts loss and ice in it.

"Don't bother with the train tickets. I can take the Knight's Bus. I have some leftover pocket money from my last withdrawal from Gringotts," said Hermione.

"'Knight's Bus'? You know what?—don't answer that. It's a wizard thing, I guess," her father said sadly. His face showed the same sense of loss that her mother's did.

Hermione grabbed her suitcase and hugged her parent's good-bye. She left without another word.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were skiing with mum and dad," Harry asked, as Hermione greeted him upon arriving at the headquarters.

_Oh dear, what _can_ I tell him?_ Hermione wondered desperately. _That I chose the Order of the Phoenix over my blood family? That he and Ron are like the siblings I never had, that I'm happier spending time Mr and Mrs. Weasley than my own parents, that I know Tonks and Lupin better than my blood Aunts and Uncles? That I have an easier time talking to my _teachers_ than my own family?_

"To tell the truth, skiing's not _really_ my thing," Hermione told him simply, and that was enough.

Months later, Hermione, Ron and Harry slipped through the barrier of platform nine and three quarters and met with members of the Order who were already there, as well as Hermione's parents. Hermione hugged her parents hello. Her mother held her for an extra second.

"Are you sure about your choice?" she whispered in Hermione's ear. "You can always spend your whole holiday with us, you know."

By way of answer, Hermione gently slipped from her mother's arms, and rejoined Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Ginny, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley. Together, they stood behind Harry—close to Hermione's parents, but just a few feet apart.


End file.
